Some Things
by Rjalker
Summary: Some things are best left unsaid. Others are best forgotten entirely. And some things you can never forget. Jonathan never imagined that their little 'test' could go so wrong. His only consolation is that he's the only one who can remember. But even that feels like one too many. Helping her get out of the loop is the least he can do. But he'll still have nightmares. Life Serial.


**Some Things**

Created on 12/3/12 9:29 AM

**Some things are best left unsaid. Others are best forgotten entirely. And some things you can never forget. Jonathan never imagined that their little 'test' could go so wrong. His only consolation is that he's the only one who can remember. But even that feels like one too many. Helping her get out of the loop is the least he can do. But he'll still have nightmares.**

* * *

Jonathan sat in the van, his chin resting on his hands, starring at the monitor, trying to keep his eyes open. Sleep weighed heavily upon him, urging him to drift off for a few moments. His eyes fell shut against his will, his thoughts blurring into soft nothingness for a few seconds—then his head began to nod, and the movement jolted him awake.

He starred around him, confused, for a moment, unsure of where he was. Then he saw the monitor in front of him, and sighed in resignation. The giddiness of having the spell actually _work—_with no draw backs or consequences_—_had worn off hours ago. Now all that was left was the sheer _boredom_.

"How long can this go on?" He asked out loud, resting his chin in his hands, careful to keep his voice low. He glanced behind him to confirm that he hadn't woken the others. Andrew had been the first to fall asleep, after the first five hours. After drawing a mustache on his face in permanent marker, Warren had dozed off as well. But not before making Jonathan swear he wouldn't draw anything on his face too. Warren hid the marker—and all of the others they'd had scattered throughout the van—inside his pocket, just in case.

Not that Jonathan would have even thought about it. He didn't like jokes at other peoples' expense. Too many times had _he_been the one who was laughed at, for such things to be funny. He wouldn't wish it on anyone.

Not even the Slayer, he thought, watching her wander aimlessly around the shop. The same way she had been for the past—he checked the stop-watch he had sitting on top of the monitor—eight hours.

And counting.

The loop reset itself every half hour if she didn't reach the objective he had specified. It was so simple, it should have taken an hour, at the most. And here he was, _still sitting there,_ eight hours later. And nothing had happened.

All she had to do was reveal something that they could use against her.

But no. Customers came and went, Mr. Giles directed her around the shop, the weird girl who's name he couldn't remember danced around with the money from the cash register. That was about it.

She swept the floor, re-arranged things on shelves, carried things to and from the basement, and, over all, did what you would expect from someone working in a small store.

No matter how many variables he changed, the outcome remained the same.

He had a blind customer come in with her service dog, to check if she was allergic. He had a tank of live tarantulas delivered, to see if they freaked her out. He sent in a guy, to see if they couldn't seduce her into giving away any of her secrets. She didn't even spare him a glance. After a few minutes of, internal debate, he sent in a woman. Still nothing.

Yawning, Jonathan looked down at the list he'd made. There were still a lot of things left. He grabbed a pen—Warren hadn't thought to hide _them—_and looked at the one he was supposed to test next. His eyebrows rose in incredulity, and he starred at it for a few seconds, before glancing over his shoulder at his two sleeping friends, then back to the paper. He shook his head in disbelief. It was the stupidest idea he had ever heard. It would never work. She was the _Slayer_. No _way_ it would work. He grabbed the monitor and hit his head against it a few times, then groaned in irritation. _How_ could someone be so dumb? _This_ was why Andrew shouldn't have been included in the brainstorming session!

Because there was no way the Slayer was afraid of the dark.

He glanced back at the screen. The loop had just reset itself. He slowly lowered the amount of sunlight coming in through the windows. To those inside, it would appear like nothing more than a stay cloud floating in the wind to cover the sun.

Then he flicked the switch for the light.

And the shop was plunged into darkness.

* * *

**Some things are best left to the imagination.**

**Finished on January 3rd, 2013**


End file.
